


Crowning Glory

by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Golden Age (Narnia), Hair, Hair Brushing, Long Hair, Prompt Fic, Sibling Bonding, Slice of Life, cotton candy bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edmund combs Susan's hair. (A plotless bit of sibling fluff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowning Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thimblerig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/gifts).



> This ficlet was written for [cat_i_th_adage](http://cat_i_th_adage.livejournal.com) in response to the prompt: _Um, how about Susan Pevensie, combs or haircombing? (I just like Susan, okay?)_ It's also a [Cotton Candy Bingo](http://edenfalling.dreamwidth.org/747004.html) fill for the prompt _lazy day_ , because I was feeling efficient. Vinyedvyeri is a country to the northwest of Narnia, first encountered in [Queen Lucy, the Firebird, and the Death of Koschei the Deathless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/510796), and yes, the stealth crossover element still applies. *grin*
> 
> I am not entirely sure how this ended up in Edmund's POV when he wasn't even in the prompt, but he's sneaky like that.

"I have decided to cut it all off," Susan says as Edmund runs a comb through her hair. It's still damp from its weekly washing, gleaming in the sun, and the warm scent of lavender rises from the dark, heavy mass as it spills over Edmund's lap.

"Again?" he says absently, most of his attention on a particularly stubborn tangle.

"I mean it this time," Susan insists in sleepy indignation, not bothering to raise her head from her arms, which are crossed on the balcony rail. "'Tisn't practical. I'm forever losing minutes here and there maneuvering plaits around, to say naught of the time spent putting those plaits _in_ , or brushing the whole dratted mess, or wasting an entire afternoon with washing and combing and letting it dry. Even discounting the misuse of time, I have come a paw's breadth from strangling or smothering myself in my sleep more times than I can count, and two nights past when I let my hair down to impress Lord Auditor Arseny of Vinyedvyeri, I stepped on some strands and nearly screamed in open court from the pain. Lucy never has to deal with any such nonsense. So I shall cut it off."

Her skirts swish in Edmund's general direction, disrupted by a mostly-symbolic kick.

"Valid points, all," Edmund agrees. "As they were last week, and a fortnight ago, and so on back for years." The tangle unknots itself and he makes a little noise of triumph in the back of his throat.

"You might at least pretend to believe me," Susan says.

"Would that not be a waste of time, such as you were only now disdaining?"

Susan snarls, a soft, unserious echo of a rumpled cat, and tugs one of her hands free long enough to flick a hairpin toward Edmund. It strikes him directly on the forehead, her aim impeccable as always though she is working only off of memory, sound, and the rhythmic pull of the comb through her hair.

"If you are awake enough for that, I think you are awake enough to review the latest harvest estimates from the Beruna valley or the Lone Islands' petition for adjusted trade terms," Edmund says. "And so we will turn this time from one useful purpose -- that being to give you a space to breathe without the press of duty -- to another. Or you could continue to enjoy the sun and the breeze and save the business of government for the evening."

Susan sighs into her sleeves. "Someday I will convince you that it is neither unsafe nor unseemly to ask for respite on your own behalf rather than concealing your own needs as concern for mine," she says.

Edmund's hands still for a moment. He always forgets how well his sister knows him in particular and can read people in general, though she turns her skills to gentler pursuits than his. He forces the comb back into motion and hopes Susan won't mention his lapse.

She is kind: "Yes, brother, let us continue to enjoy the afternoon. And when you have finished with my hair, I shall claim recompense to play with yours, which has grown far too long for you to continue ignoring it the way you are wont to do. I have quite the collection of beads and buttons to weave into plaits, and you cannot deny the Crows will appreciate such a gesture toward their ways."

Edmund thinks of the likely results, and the pompous Lord Auditor's likely reaction to them. He lets his smile rise to his lips rather than bite it back the way he so often does in court.

"As you wish," he says, and begins to separate Susan's hair into strands for plaiting.


End file.
